


Every Great Storm Starts with a Gentle Breeze

by ladyblogger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, accidental roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblogger/pseuds/ladyblogger
Summary: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes find friendship and maybe something more after the death of Steve Rogers.





	1. Grief

Captain America was dead. Steve Rogers was dead, and Sam Wilson did not know what to do. The best doctors SHEILD had to offer could do nothing. Sharon’s guilt, Tony’s anger, Natasha’s stoic mourning, nothing could make things right. The world would never be right again. 

Sam remembered feeling the same kind of apocalyptic pain when Riley had been shot down. He felt the same grief surging through his veins, the same helplessness radiating through his bones, the same weight in his head, keeping him from standing quite as straight. He all at once felt trapped in his own body and dangling outside of his own skin, watching himself mourn. 

He tried to stand inconspicuously near the back, but Pepper Potts gently led him by the hand to a chair between Tony and Bucky, where the other Avengers, current and past members alike, were gathered. She sat on Tony’s left side, letting their fingers intertwine. Tony remained sitting tall for a brief moment after she sat down, before slowly collapsing his head onto her shoulder. His sunglasses today were a traditional heavy black lens. Missing were his trademark bold colours and quick mouth; today Tony Stark had finally run out of words. There had been moments as an Avenger when Sam thought he would have given anything for some peace and quiet out of Tony- but never would he have thought that if he knew this was the price that he, that Tony, that the world, would have to pay. 

Sam tried to pull his focus away from the quiet picture of grief manifesting in the picture of Tony and Pepper. There was still a solid 20 minutes before the service was set to start, and the swarms of incoming mourners was showing no signs of slowing down or thinning out. Before his arrival, Sam had promised himself that he would not cry in front of anyone, especially not in a crowd of this magnitude. Numerous and nearly uncountable people were here to face their grief and say goodbye to not only a national icon, but someone who truly made the world a better place for having been a part of it. Sam knew that was how the vast majority of these people felt about Steve. He chose to carry his grief alone because his relationship with Steve had been his own to understand. It was different than with these other people. Not better, not worse, just different. 

To pull himself out of his spiralling emotions, Sam noticed that Bucky’s left hand, his Hydra built metal hand, was stuffed in his pocket, the sleeves of his shirt and jacket pulled tight all the way down. This resulted in his otherwise pristine black suit looking ill fitted and lopsided. He tried to not look at Bucky for too long, choosing to deliberately focus his gaze past him while keeping him in view. Considering the seemingly sloppiness of his clothing, Bucky’s posture was impeccable. His shoulders were pushed back and down, his chest puffed out with strength not arrogance. Sam also noticed the rigidness of Bucky’s muscles, which was particularly evident in his jaw. 

Sam was puzzled by the stark contrast between Bucky’s body language and clothing. Then it hit him, Bucky’s clothes were as deliberately set as his posture; Bucky was doing his absolute best to inconspicuously hide any evidence of his bionic arm. The realization stunned Sam initially. Since he and Steve had brought Bucky back, Steve had been nothing but supportive and caring about every aspect of his recovered friend; he especially seemed to go above and beyond when it came to Bucky’s new arm. Overtime, Sam had stopped giving it much thought at all. At most he aligned it with countless other prosthetics he was accustomed to down at the VA. He couldn’t figure any reason Bucky should feel the need to hide it out of respect to Steve’s memory; therefore, his only conclusion was that without that consistent support Steve supplied, Bucky was struggling with himself.

Almost like Sam was struggling. Sam knew that there was plenty he did not know about Steve and Bucky’s relationship. He assumed actually that there was absolutely more information he did not know, than information he did. He also assumed that, like himself, Bucky would not expect anyone to understand the relationship he had with Steve. That’s when his VA training kicked in, and he ever so slightly twisted his head and dipped his shoulder towards Bucky.  
“So, you and Steve,” Sam started to say, but he let the sentence hang, unfinished. Maybe this hadn’t been the best time or place to bring up their relationship, but the words had escaped his lips before he had thought of something lighter, easier to start with. 

“You and Steve?” was Bucky’s reply. Sam could not read if it was a question or a statement so he let it hang in the air between them. If he was being honest with himself, he was not even sure he would know how to answer that question if Bucky had instead asked him explicitly and directly. Now he was certain that he should have lead with a different, less complicated question. 

Despite his best efforts to stay focused on Bucky and Bucky’s pain, Sam felt himself remembering Steve in a way he never wanted to share with anyone else. The memories that were just for him, but also too painful to face alone right now, those memories he tried so hard to bury, all came flooding back, flashing behind his eyes in that moment. This caused him to be thankful for the first time that day, but certainly not the last, that the outdoor funeral service allowed him to keep his sunglasses firmly on his face, concealing the true pain in his eyes. 

Amongst the flashes in his mind was a pattern of interactions, stolen glances, drunken kisses, and lingering touches. Sam could feel a wet anger growing in the back of his throat. It was in this moment that he realized that Steve Rogers had cursed him. Steve Rogers would haunt him with the painful truth of an almost, neither begun nor ended, but somewhere stuck in a void of the in between. Sam Wilson was cursed with what might have been, and he was angry. 

He took a sharp breath and gave his head a small shake. Bucky had been entirely still since the moment Sam had sat down next to him with the minor exception of minimal mouth moment when speaking. Or at least, he had been entirely still until Sam’s sharp exhale. At the noise, Sam noticed Bucky’s hand start to slip out of his pocket, but as quickly as it started, his hand hesitated, and became still once more. 

The silence that sat between them had become thick was awkwardness and something between hesitation and anticipation. Sam looked across where the casket lay and saw Scott Lang sitting directly across from him, whispering quietly to Wanda who was sitting to his left. He felt the corner of his mouth lift to an almost smile.

“It’s a remarkable thing,” he said to Bucky who had followed his eye line to the conversing Avengers, “The things that Steve did that brought remarkably different people together in search of a greater good”.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some of the tension slip out of Bucky’s jaw; it was a start. “He always had a knack for putting a team together,” Bucky said. 

Sam knew that he was referencing the Howling Commandos. “Steve used to talk about those guys sometimes, not often, but sometimes,” Sam said, deciding that discussing Steve relationships with the Commandos was safer than those he shared with himself or Bucky.

Bucky actually almost smiled at that, “And what did he say? That those old guys knew how to drink?”

Sam gave a short chuckle in his throat, of course Bucky knew exactly what Steve would have chosen to focus on. Of course Bucky must know that Steve only talked about them when the team was settled around a table at a bar celebrating a mission. Obviously Bucky would know which stories Steve felt safe to talk about, and when he could talk about them. He did his best to choke back his bitterness, hoping to keep his tone at least neutral when he responded, “Ya, he used to make fun of Clint and Rhodey for not being able to hold a flask to those guys”. 

By now, the crowd of incoming people was practically halted, and the priest was standing at the head of the casket. Bucky and Sam exchanged curt nods and focused their attention towards the priest.  
*  
The service was exactly what Sam had expected. It was poetic, and beautiful, and designed for the masses, not for those who really knew Steve. The Avengers stayed seated, huddled around the grave as the casket was slowly lowered into the perfectly hollowed out ground. They stayed seated long after all of the other mourners paid their respects and cleared out of the cemetery. 

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Scott rose first and approached the edge. He scooped a small handful of dirt, whispered a few words no one could hear before lightly dropping it over the lowered casket. Hope followed in Scott’s steps, repeating the ritual, leading Fury and Hill to create a steady precession of Avengers, old and new, to each pay their final respects to their great leader. Finally all who remained were Tony, Sam, and Bucky. It was obvious to Sam at this point that all three had the intention to be the final person to pay their respects, however, only one of them could truly be last. With a loving prod from Pepper to his lower back, Tony stepped forward and scooped up some dirt. Sam was close enough to hear the words Tony spoke through short breaths; “I am so sorry”. He slowly scattered the earth and turned into Pepper’s arms as he let her lead him away behind the other Avengers. 

Realizing that there was no way to put it off any longer, that he would not be the last to say goodbye, Sam stepped forward and collected his own handful of rich, dark soil. He leaned over the very edge of the grave, taking one last look at the flag draped casket of the man he thought he might have loved. He watched the earth slip through his fingers, prolonging the final moment as long as he could. When all the earth had fallen, he rose and whispered, “On your left”, and slowly began to walk past Steve’s final resting place. 

He walked so slowly, again trying to prolong that last moment. This was the reason he also heard Bucky’s last words, “To the end of the line”. Sam for the second time that day, and still not the last, was thankful that his sunglasses hid the tears that had welled up in his bloodshot eyes. 

A few gravestones from the front entrance Sam slowed down to let Bucky walk alongside him. He shuffled awkwardly to keep Bucky on his left side. He figured he could handle the pain of having a genetically enhanced super soldier on his left who wasn’t Steve Rogers long enough to keep Bucky more comfortable with his left arm on the outside of the crowd, free from the risk of accidental contact. He didn’t say anything about it, he just did it. 

Together they walked with a matched stride toward where the others were waiting. Pepper supporting red and puffy eyes and a forced smile cleared her throat when they were all huddled near, “I think we could all use a drink, I made sure the Tower was stocked with anything and everything anyone might need, and as usual, the doors are always open”. 

“I must return Jane to her lab prior to an urgent return to Asguard, I’m afraid Ms Potts,” Thor said, hammer in one hand, Jane pulled into his chest with the other, “Fear not, there will be much drinking in the Captains honour where I am headed. He is well known now among the realms”. 

“That’s because you spend most of your time boasting about how wonderful he is,” Jane teased, before wincing, “he was,” she finished, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

Thor smiled gravely, “I am fortunate to have had such a friend,” his eyes full of sadness. 

Jane looked up with him with a smile full of love and understanding as she gave him a squeeze. Sam felt an ache in his chest when he saw that look, it was a look he so desperately needed himself, and yet one he knew he could not have.  
With a humble bow to the team, Thor took off carrying Jane away. 

In the end, only a handful of people met up at the tower sitting around in a variety of mismatched comfy chairs from all areas of the tower; Sam, Bucky, Tony, Pepper, Nat, Clint, and Wanda. Tony’s mouth seemed to be working again as he spouted story after story about Steve Rogers. Most seemed to come second hand through Howard, but there were plenty starring Tony himself, but all told with the same enthusiasm and loud gusto. Wanda was particularly quiet, taking short sips from her glass, nursing its contents with shaking hands. 

“She’s been having nightmares about Peitro every night since Steve passed,” Clint had whispered to Sam behind the bar as they helped make the next round, “She won’t spend any time with Nathanial anymore, they used to be inseparable”.

Sam pursed his lips, “I see this at the VA all the time, she’s had a rough life, and each loss is going to take its toll. I don’t know if there’s much you can do besides keep being supportive. I could try talking to her if you want?”

Clint gently squeezed Sam’s shoulder, “Thanks, I’ll let you know if it comes to that, I don’t want to overwhelm her”.

Sam smiled and nodded as Clint slipped back to the other side of the bar and back to where the others were seated. While watching Clint position himself within reach of Wanda and giving her a warm smile, Sam felt the same ache in his chest he felt with Jane looked at Thor and realized he wasn’t missing a lover, but just someone, anyone to support him so unconditionally, and unselfishly. For so long he had only looked to be that person for someone else, he hadn’t realized how much he needed one himself. 

At that moment, Bucky slipped behind the bar into Clint’s vacant spot. He began shifting through the variety of what Sam could only assume was very expensive alcohol. “I thought you couldn’t get drunk,” He said over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Normally, I can’t,” Bucky said, only the slightest hint of frustration slipping through in his tone. “But,” he continued, “That stuff Thor brought down from Asguard works, I just gotta figure out where he stashed it”.

“Let me help you look,” Sam said, bending down beside Bucky searching through the various labels. 

Eventually they both noticed the same silver flask covered in engravings of a language neither could decipher sitting tucked in the back. Sam reached out his left hand, Bucky his right, and their hands brushed for a moment in their haste to retrieve their goal. Sam retracted his hand without grabbing the flask, Bucky’s hand clasped the flask and pulled it out swiftly. Something happened when their hands brushed.

“Must’ve been a static shock,” Sam thought and promptly moved on from the incident. 

“That has to be what you’re looking for,” Sam said, straightening up.

“It better be,” Bucky laughed opening the top and moved to take a drag straight from the flask as he too stood up.  
“Hey now,” Sam said, “You’d better use a glass, there man”.

Bucky reached past Sam with his left hand, and Sam shifted out of the way, avoiding contact, as Bucky grabbed one of Tony’s favourite tumblers. 

Sam noticed that the hint of a playful smile had fell from Bucky’s face as he pour a few drops of the amber liquid into the glass.

“I remember,” Sam said before he could stop himself, “Steve used to mix that with one of Tony’s top shelf scotches; something about it feeling more like a real drink”. As he finished speaking, he took his turn to reach past Bucky to the top of the back shelf where Sam knew any one of those scotches cost more than the rent on his first student apartment. As he reached up, he realized how close he was to Bucky. He grabbed the closest bottle and pulled it down before stepping back restoring a normal distance between them. 

“Try this,” He said.

“Grab a glass, and I’ll pour you one too,” Bucky said, seemingly entirely unfazed by the whole interaction. Sam obliged quickly with a glass of his own. 

Bucky poured him a healthy double.

“It’ll save you at least one trip back to the bar,” Bucky teased when Sam gave him a look.

Sam chuckled, “Or we could just bring the bottle with us, save us all any trouble”.

Bucky smirked and nodded, leading the way back to the others glass in one hand, flask in the other, with the scotch tucked neatly under his arm. 

Sam followed with his smile slipping; it felt weird to joke around right now. At least he thought it should, and it was weird that it wasn’t weird. “Don’t overthink it” he reminded himself as he took three deep breaths before reclaiming his favourite armchair next to Natasha. 

“Hey Wilson, remember how Steve introduced us?” Natasha said, a slight flush in her cheeks.

Sam snorted into his drink, “Remember? How could I forget two wanted criminals showing up on my doorstep and eating all my breakfast?”

The rest of the evening was spent reminiscing, not just about Steve, but about friendship in general. Sam didn’t volunteer much, but commented on others plenty so no one seemed to notice. Overall, it was the evening they all needed, and Sam was glad to have been a part of it. 

Things came to a close when Nat, Clint, and Wanda who had fallen asleep intertwined, started snoring in hilarious unison. While the others were collecting their things, Sam noticed Bucky slip away without saying anything to anyone. Sam loitered around while the others said their goodbyes; Pepper and Tony left together, Pepper supporting a fair amount of Tony’s weight with great dignity and surprising grace. Clint and Nat were teasing each other about who was the loudest snorer, and Wanda trailed behind them because she paused to give Sam a swift kiss on the cheek before saying goodnight. 

Soon it was just Sam alone in the room. He piled the empty bottles at one end of the bar, and the dirty glasses on the other. 

When that was done, he stood facing the direction of his room at the tower, reluctant to actually head to bed. For reasons he couldn’t quite place, he didn’t feel right about sleeping in there that night. Not feeling tired, but definitely starting to feel claustrophobic, he grabbed his coat and headed out to the street. 

He paid no attention to where his feet were leading him for a while. He just breathed in the air and wandered through quiet streets. Eventually he realized he was wandering in the direction of Steve’s old apartment. He still had a key to the place and since Steve owned it alone, Sam figured it was as good a place as any to crash for the night. He took his time making his way down there. He stopped a few times along the way, finally allowing himself to feel the full pain of his loss now that he was alone. 

He stopped under an overpass he and Steve had once taken shelter from a hail storm. He felt his eyes sting, but didn’t push away the tears when he remembered the feeling of Steve’s arms wrapped around him, trying to shield him from the cold. “I like taking care of you,” Steve had said when Sam complained about how pathetic he was feeling because he felt the cold worse than Steve did.

Sam didn’t brush the tears away from his cheeks as he kept walking; at this point he realized they were not to be the only ones of the night. The tears started again when he passed the bakery he and Steve would frequent on lazy Sunday mornings. There was no stopping those tears when he remembered the one time the two of them popped in and Sam had ended up with powdered sugar on his cheek. Remembering the way Steve’s thumb gently brushed it away before pulling Sam into their first sober kiss was enough to force Sam’s eyes to squeeze shut as he stumbled into the driveway next door where he and Steve had their first drunk kiss. 

The closer Sam got to Steve’s apartment, the harder it was to keep walking, and the more impossible it became to go anywhere else. Eventually Sam was openly crying in the elevator, leaning on the railing to keep from crumpling up all together. His whole body was shaking, though his sobs were mostly quiet as he walked the short distance from the elevator to the front door. His hands trembled as he struggled to unlock and open the door. 

He was so caught up in his own distress; he couldn’t hear the sounds from the other side of the door until he stumbled onto the scene and witnessed it with his own eyes.

In the middle of the apartment, on Steve’s couch wrapped in one of Steve’s sweaters, was the sobbing huddled mess of James Barnes.


	2. Reluctant Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Bucky both move into Steve's apartment together, though, maybe a little reluctantly at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun writing this!

Sam was frozen in the doorway, most of his weight in the hand that was clutching the door. His nose was running, and his cheeks were wet as he took in the private moment he had stumbled into. 

Bucky too froze when Sam had burst through the door. He still had his arms wrapped around his knees but his head was lifted, starring at Sam with the wet hot anger of a cornered animal. Sam had seen that look before; he had even seen that look directed towards him, but not since what now felt like a different life. 

Sam could see the arm of Steve’s sweater was damp with tears and snot where Bucky had been sobbing. A well of emotions brewed up in his chest. He was angry that someone else had taken refuge in what was supposed to be his safe place; he was embarrassed that he assumed he was the only one who would think to come here at all; and he felt guilty for disrupting someone else’s grief. 

He was about to just turn around and leave, when he noticed the anger slip away from Bucky’s expression. The change was subtle, but noticeable so Sam stayed in the doorway wiping his cheeks with the palm of his free hand.

“I didn’t realize this is where you slipped off to,” Sam said, he could tell that his voice was all wrong, “I’ll head out”.

“No” Bucky said, his voice also choked up, “it’s late and you’re already here, you might as well crash”.

Sam pursed his lips and nodded a few too many times before stepping fully inside and closing the door behind him. He turned his back on Bucky and took three deep breaths as he clicked the lock into place. When he turned back around, Bucky had somehow disappeared. Sam looked around the room puzzled for a moment until he saw Bucky slip out from Steve’s room, the sweater he was wearing abandoned. 

“I was just gonna pass out on the couch,” Bucky said, not meeting Sam’s eyes, “You can have the spare room”.

Sam had no problem interpreting Bucky’s hidden threat of “Don’t even think about sleeping in Steve’s room” hidden under the kind gesture. 

“Great,” Sam said, “I was gonna stay there anyway because I’ve already got some stuff stashed in there”. 

He forced himself to give Bucky a polite smile despite the anger that was starting to bubble up in his chest.

“So you get to wear his clothes but I’m not allowed in his room” he thought to himself, “What an asshole”. 

Bucky maintained an unreadable expression, “There are extra blankets and stuff in the spare room closet, could I grab some before you turn in?”

“Yeah, course,” Sam replied. He watched Bucky slip sheepishly into the spare room as he wondered if he was perhaps the one being an asshole. 

When Bucky returned with a small blanket and a flimsy pillow Sam said, “Pancakes or eggs for breakfast?”

Bucky gave a small smile, “Pancakes sound good”.

Sam smiled softly in return before bowing his head and slipping into the spare room. Without giving much thought to anything, he stripped down to his underwear and fell into the puffy white bed. Exhausted from crying and overwhelmed from his discovery of Bucky, Sam fell asleep almost the moment his head hit the overstuffed pillow. 

That sleep did not last long though, much to Sam’s frustration. The bed just wasn’t right. The bed was way too soft and he couldn’t bear it. He tossed and turned for a while before giving up entirely. He sat up and leaned the back of his head against the headboard. He took three deep breaths with his eyes closed. Then he got out of bed and headed out of the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom. 

Halfway to his destination, Sam noticed Bucky twitching in his sleep. The twitching wasn’t the part that surprised Sam, what surprised him was the fact that Bucky wasn’t sleeping on the couch like he had said he would be. Instead Bucky’s was stretched out on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Sam rubbed his eyes and smirked, apparently he wasn’t the only one who had a problem with Steve’s overstuffed furniture. 

He stubbed his toe on the door frame on his way out of the bathroom and before he could even swear, Bucky has leapt to his feet in a defensive position, knocking over the coffee table as he did. 

“Well isn’t this a sight?” Sam thought to himself as he looked down at his foot in his hand and the comically confused expression on Bucky’s face as realization dawned on him. They stood in silence for a moment before Sam broke it by dropping his foot and running his hands over his head while giggling. Bucky just stared at him for a moment, and just before Sam thought he should get a hold of himself, Bucky started to giggle too.

Now neither of them were really laughing, but nor could they actually keep control over tiny, obnoxious giggles that determinedly slipped through their lips. Under different circumstances Sam may have found the whole thing strange, perhaps even awkward, but right now, in that moment, he was a little bit thankful. 

“So are you alright or what” Bucky asked. 

“I think I’ll pull through” Sam said. 

“Well I’m up now,” Bucky said, looking at Sam as he scooped the blanket off the floor and dropped it back on the couch casually.

“Yeah I guess I am too,” Sam said. He was suddenly very aware that he was in his underwear. He cleared his throat, “I normally start the day with a run, I think I’ll just start my day real early today”.  
“Mind if I join you?” Bucky asked.

Sam didn’t answer; he just bit the inside of his cheek and looked past Bucky towards the door. Sam never liked running with anyone else. He liked the peace and quiet of an early morning run. He liked the freedom to set his own pace, to focus only his feet hitting the pavement and the sound of his heart. The only person who he had ever run with was Steve. Running with Steve was great because it combined two of Sam’s favourite things; running alone, and being with Steve. Steve never waited for Sam, just took an obnoxiously long route that conveniently caused him to brush past Sam’s left elbow at least 3 times in 5 miles, sometimes more if he was feeling particularly sassy. Sam knew that Steve would’ve patiently run at Sam’s pace if he had ever asked; but that was just it, Steve knew Sam well enough to know never to offer. 

Bucky clearly noticed Sam’s hesitation and broke the awkward silence, “You know what, I ran yesterday, but haven’t actually hit the gym in a while. I’ll just sneak into the tower for a session”.

Sam felt guilty, but didn’t argue; “Sounds good”. He watched as Bucky ducked into a small bag by the couch and began rummaging around for something to wear. Sam took a deep breath and headed back to the spare room where he had some running clothes stashed. 

When he re-emerged from his room, shoelaces pulled tight, his shirt hanging crooked, he saw Bucky leaving.

“Hey, hold up,” he called out and Bucky turned to face him, already half out the door. “I’m still making pancakes later, and if you wanted to come back I could make extra,” he offered. 

Bucky’s neutral expression didn’t change, “I’ll be back in three hours” he said, his voice kinder than his expression. 

Sam felt the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile as he followed Bucky into the still dark early hours of the morning. 

Two hours later, Sam Wilson was back in Steve Roger’s apartment. This time, he returned to find it empty and quiet. He walked through the door slowly, fully taking in the feeling of emptiness that now remained. He allowed himself to remember the first time he ever set foot in this apartment.

Steve had just bought it and was showing it off. Nat, Clint, and Tony had already left when Steve finally asked Sam what he thought of it.

“It’s nice, I think it suits you,” Sam said, taking his time looking over the entirety of the room again without the obstructions of the other Avengers. 

“Thanks. You were right about being in Brooklyn, it’s home, you know. It never really did feel right living anywhere else” Steve said, looking intently at Sam. 

Sam felt himself flush; he hadn’t realized that he had any part in Steve’s decision to live out here. He smiled back at Steve a little sheepishly before wandering over to Steve’s record collection. There settled neatly atop the stack of the likes of Bing Crosby, Cole Porter, and Jimmy Dorsey was the Trouble Man soundtrack Sam had bought on vinyl for Steve the previous Christmas. 

Sam felt a swell of pride in his chest and a twinge in his heart. Here was undeniable proof of the bond he shared with Steve. No one in Steve’s life could possibly understand what he has gone through, but here was proof that while he didn’t understand Steve’s past, he understood Steve. 

He turned around and found himself just inches from Steve, their bodies not quite touching, but the air between them was electric. Steve was looking down at him with a playful look on his face. Sam wanted to kick himself for going weak in the knees, but he couldn’t help it. Steve rarely acknowledged his full stature, but when he did, he did it with a powerful grace and clear intention. Steve gaze was locked on Sam as he leaned in ever so slightly so their lips were almost brushing. He stopped there and whispered, “We’re going to be late”

“Let’s be late,” Sam said, breathless.

But Steve pulled away with a chuckle, “Can’t, it was my idea, I gotta be there”.

“Right, of course, where are we going again?” Sam asked, collecting himself in his disappointment. 

“Portal,” Steve replied. 

“That place is so tacky,” Sam said, groaning. 

“That’s half the fun!” Steve said over his shoulder as he led Sam out of the apartment and into the night. 

As Sam remembered, he ran his fingers gingerly over the slightly dusty records that still remained on the very same shelf he had first seen them. There still on top, though a little askew, was the Trouble Man soundtrack. 

A wet heat behind his eyes welled up as he straightened up the stack. He moved on, forcing the tears back, and ran his fingers over the spines of the wonderfully miscellaneous collection of books Steve had eagerly collected. Almost every spare moment Steve had was spent trying to catch up on every book he had missed being in the ice. He plucked off the shelf a particularly well read copy of Catch 22 that he knew Steve had favoured. He flipped through its pages gently, remembering the rainy afternoon they had spent in this apartment together, Steve’s head in Sam’s lap as the both read; Sam some forgettable detective novel, and Steve with this copy of Catch 22. Flipping through the pages reminded him of the way Steve’s hair felt as he had ran his fingers through it, neither of them talking, just being together. 

Sam felt the first tear fall as he carefully re-shelved the book and moved right outside Steve’s bedroom door. Before he turned the handle to step in, he heard a key scratch in the front door. At the unexpected noise, he wiped his face with his hand quickly as he darted over to the kitchen.

He had his head in the fridge by the time Bucky walked back in. 

“How was your workout?” Sam asked, blinking his eyes hard hoping to cover up any evidence of the time he had spent crying. 

“Fine, the tower was quiet for the most part,” Bucky said, “I ran into Vision on my way out”.

“Really?” Sam said, pulling the ingredients he needed out of the fridge, “That guy, I don’t know”.

“Does he freak you out?” Bucky asked with an almost accusatory tone.

“No, not at all,” Sam said, he almost wanted to laugh at the question, “He’s just very intense and I don’t know how a conversation with him would go this early in the morning”.

Bucky’s body seemed to unravel slightly at Sam’s answer, though he didn’t respond. “I stink, do I have time to shower before you go Master Chef on me?” he asked.

“Yeah, go start, I’ll jump in after,” Sam said. He put his head in his hand, “I mean you shower now, I’ll work on the batter, and we should both be finished around the same time. Then I can take over the bathroom, when you get out, while the batter sits,” he finished with a sigh.

“I figured,” Bucky said, almost smiling and heading towards to bathroom, black bag in hand. 

Sam heard the water start running as he whipped together the pancake batter- the recipe memorized long ago from a church cookbook that had belonged to his mother. The water was still running after Sam had carefully placed the batter in the fridge to set. He stood in the middle of the kitchen debating about wither or not he had enough time to sneak into Steve’s room for a quick moment when the water finally stopped. So instead he slipped back into the spare room.

When he heard Bucky in the kitchen by the sink, Sam grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and some sweatpants and made towards the bathroom. Bucky was wearing shorts and a hoodie as he drank a glass of water.   
“I’ll be out in a minute to finish breakfast,” Sam said.

“What’s left to do?” Bucky asked.

“Well coffee is a must, and I saw some bacon in the freezer I was gonna ask you about,” Sam replied.

“You shower, I’ll get started,” Bucky said, leaving his glass on the counter and opening the freezer.

Sam just nodded as he went into the bathroom. He let the water run hot for a while, steaming up the whole room before he stepped in. The water was way too hot against his skin, but he ignored the irritation, hoping the water would not only wash away the tension and pain in his muscles from when he pushed himself on the run; but that the water would also work away on the tension and pain he felt inside. 

He washed quickly but stayed under the water, letting it pour over him for longer than he originally planned. He stood there lost in his own head until he heard a loud clattering from the kitchen followed by some Russian words he could only imagine to be swear words. He turned the water off, wrapped a towel around himself and rushed out to the kitchen, almost slipping on his way out. 

Bucky was standing with his back to Sam in the middle of a large pile of assorted pots and pans looking rather disgruntled. 

“What the hell happened, man?” Sam asked, his heart pounding.

“Well the pan I wanted for the bacon was on the bottom, and I underestimated how difficult it would be to pull it out,” Bucky said before turning around. 

Sam suddenly felt very aware of the fact that he was dripping wet and mostly naked as Bucky was looking at him with a slightly surprised expression.

“Well,” Sam said, “I’m going to go get dressed then I think you should get out of the kitchen”.

“Right,” Bucky said, his voice unreadable, as he bent down to clean up the mess he made. 

Sam slipped back into the bathroom, toweled off and threw on his fresh clothes quickly. “Why didn’t you grab a shirt, you moron,” He thought to himself as he stood sheepishly in the bathroom. 

He took three deep breaths and made an awkward almost dash to his room. Feeling like an idiot, he threw on the first t-shirt he grabbed and made his way back to the kitchen. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t be anywhere near the cooking process, but I do make a pretty decent cup of coffee,” Bucky said, pushing a steaming mug across the counter when he saw Sam. 

Sam noticed that the coffee appeared to be made exactly the way he liked it; “Did you put-“

“A splash of milk and half a sugar,” Bucky interrupted, “Yeah I did, we’ve had coffee together before”. 

Sam tried and failed to keep the look of surprise off his face, “Yeah I know, but I didn’t realize you noticed that”.

Bucky just nodded and took a sip from his own mug. 

The air between them began to feel the same combination of awkwardness and anticipation Sam had felt yesterday.

“I better get started on breakfast,” he said, grabbing the mug by the handle on his way to the fridge.

“I’ll just sit then,” Bucky said, grabbing a stool by the island and perching himself upon it. He had his mug clasped in both his hands. 

Sam heated up two pans, one for pancakes and one for bacon. As he waited for them to heat up, he too wrapped both hands around his mug and pulled it close to his face, just breathing in the scent of fresh, strong coffee. 

Before taking a sip, he snuck a peak over at Bucky who was unexpectedly performing the same ritual. Briefly their eyes met across the room and over their cups. Sam figured Bucky must have also noticed the strange coincidence that they both shared similar coffee rituals, because when Sam took a sip of his drink, Bucky shoved his left hand into his pocket, proceeding to take his own drink with one hand, instead of mirroring Sam. 

Once the pancakes and bacon were ready and plated, Sam pulled up a stool at the island with Bucky and they ate in what was a mostly comfortable silence. 

“Thanks for cooking,” Bucky said, “I’ll clean up”.

“Thanks,” Sam said, “Coffee was perfect”.

“More?”

“Sure,” Sam moved to get up.

“I got it,” Bucky said pouring Sam a fresh cup.

Sam nursed his coffee, thinking back on the last 24 hours. How could life be such a mess when he just had a meal like the one he just shared? How could breakfast in Steve’s apartment, without Steve but with Bucky, be the most normal, stable thing in his life right now?

“So are you a big fan of Star Wars?” Bucky asked while he scrubbed the dishes in the sink.

“What?” Sam asked, not following the conversation jump.

“Star Wars. I’m assuming from your shirt you’re a Han Solo fan at the very least,” Bucky said, gesturing to Sam’s chest. 

Sam looked down in horror at the shirt he had grabbed at random. What he thought was a harmless black tee, was actually the gag gift Steve had bought him for his birthday the year he foolishly suggested they spend together watching the original trilogy. In the classic yellow Star Wars font read, “Save a pod racer, ride a Solo”. It wasn’t even that clever, but Steve found it hilarious. Sam dropped his head in his hands and groaned.

“Oh come on, Star Wars is great, there’s no shame. And that Harrison Ford, damn,” Bucky said, cheekily. 

“So you’ve seen Star Wars then?” Sam asked, “I didn’t realize you were so up with the times”.

“Yeah, I’m pretty hip,” Bucky retorted grinning. He paused and turned back to the dishes, “Steve and I watched them”.

Sam felt a weight drop in his stomach. Steve showed him. Sam was angry at yet another example of Bucky invading every space Steve and he had ever shared.   
He stood up swiftly, “Right, look, thanks for cleaning up, I think I’m gonna get going”.

“Where?” Bucky asked.

“Just gotta run some errands before checking in at the tower,” Sam said evasively. 

“Right,” Bucky said, tone entirely neutral, “Thanks for breakfast”.

“Yup,” Sam said, rushing back to the spare room to change into some proper clothes. He did so quickly and was out the front door in less than five minutes. In the elevator he mentally kicked himself for believing that anything to do with James Barnes would bring him any genuine peace or stability. 

He found himself on the almost entirely deserted street with nothing to do and nowhere to go. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and huffed off in a random direction. His mind was reeling. Nothing in his life was sacred, there was nothing left that was his and he was alone. 

He wandered the streets while the sun rose around him with no destination other than to be somewhere else. He wanted to walk right out of his own skin.

He made his way over to the tower to check in on his responsibilities as an Avenger around 9. Already at the tower he found Vision, Tony, Pepper, Hope, Scott, Clint, and Wanda. Wanda looked as rough as Sam felt, but she smiled and waved at him when he took his seat around the table. Vision seemed rather focused on her, Sam noticed, returning the wave. 

“Sam!” Pepper said enthusiastically, “So nice to see you.”

“Hey Pep,” Sam said, smiling at her. 

“Well now that everyone is here, I’m going to leave you to it. I still have a company to run,” She looked tired but determined as she walked out. 

Tony watched her until she was out of sight before sighing and standing; “Alright, I guess we’d better get to Avenger-ing,” He said with false enthusiasm.

The rest of the meeting was over quickly and was entirely uneventful. Sam didn’t like it. Things weren’t normally this calm and smooth. Not one person yelled. Hope didn’t even punch Scott once the whole time. Everything now was different and Sam did not like it. 

His assignment for the next week was general evening patrol with Scott and Hope. They would divide up the city and keep an eye out for general crime. Stop muggings, walk old people across the street; basically just be a presence to make people feel safe. It was simple, straight forward, and easy; he was not happy. He was hoping for a mission, something to real command his focus and distract him from his own brain. 

“Hey, Sam, hold up!” Scott called out running up to Sam’s side.

Sam gave Scott a forced smile and kept walking.

“Personally,” Scott said, breaking the silence, “I was hoping for a real mission”.

Sam nodded, “Me too, but we’ve got a duty to the public”.

Scott flushed slightly, “Right, of course”.

Sam rubbed his head, “Sorry man. That didn’t come out right”.

Scott smiled and pushed gently on Sam shoulder, “Hey, no worries. You’re going through something and I get that. I can be your punching bag”. He then brought his arms up like a boxer and started dancing around Sam.

Sam chuckled as he swung playfully at Scott and swatted him in the ribs. They horsed around until they had to split up and run their own patterns. 

When Sam waved and moved to head out on his own, Scott stopped him.

“Look,” Scott said, “I was serious back there, I know you’re going through something the rest of us can’t understand, and that’s fine, I don’t have to understand. I’m just gonna be here if you need something”.  
Sam nodded and gave Scott an awkward yet sweet pat on the back, “Thanks”, he said leaving for his patrol. 

At the end of their shift, Sam, Scott, and Hope met back outside of Avengers Tower. They went upstairs comparing the minor disturbances they had to manage that day. They passed a lab where Bruce, Tony, and Hank were working. Sam noticed Hope visibly stiffen at the sight of her father, but she still smiled and waved at him kindly. 

“Scott,” She said, “I’ll see you at my place later,” as she abruptly left towards her room. 

Scott looked a little stunned as Sam pushed him forward towards where they had to drop off their reports. 

“So, you guys are like a real thing now?” Sam asked.

“No,” Scott said laughing, “Not at all, we just, um, hang out”.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. 

Scott sighed, “She just needs to blow off some steam sometimes and hanging out with me has the added benefit of frustrating her father,” he smiled, “And honestly, I’ve got no complaints. She’s actually a great person and we have fun”.

Sam still didn’t really understand the situation, but he dropped it. He tried to just be glad that his friend was happy. 

After Scott left, Sam felt a little lost. He had nowhere that he was expected to be. He had no incentive to leave the tower, but also none to stay. The only people around seemed to be those in the lab, and he really didn’t want to spend his night being lectured on advanced biophysics or whatever it was they were tinkering with this time. 

He decided just to go back to Steve’s apartment. Bucky was supposed to be on night patrol somewhere, so maybe he would finally have a chance to spend some alone time there; maybe even in Steve’s room.   
When he got back to the apartment, he indeed found the place deserted. It felt cold and wrong in the dark, and Sam felt a shiver up his spin. He turned on every light he passed as he went which helped, but still something was missing. Sam then set up a record to break the silence, which again helped, but not completely. Feeling his emotions rise in his chest, Sam knew that nothing he could do could fill that space that felt missing; that piece was gone forever. 

Sam left the lights and music on as he walked gingerly into Steve’s room. The room looked mostly untouched with the exception of the sweater Sam caught Bucky wearing, which was lying in a heap at the foot of the bed made in meticulous military fashion. Sam left it there as he surveyed the rest of the room. 

The room was simply furnished; Steve was not one for extravagance or clutter. The one thing he did have in bulk was a collection of framed photographs. All along all of the dressers were frames filled with photos from the past; black and white shots of his parents, some of the Howling Commandos; lots of Bucky before the war; and one stunning photo of Peggy. Mixed among the black and white was an assortment of bold colours; a photo of Peggy and Steve from when she was in the nursing home; the Avengers; Steve and Thor; Steve and Bucky; photos of Bucky-

Sam felt the tears in his eye when he saw a group of frames on the nightstand he had never seen before. They were all photos of him; him in the park, him as The Falcon, him working at the VA, him making breakfast; his head across Steve’s chest sound asleep. 

Next to the photos was a little notebook. Sam nervously flipped it open. Inside were drawings clearly done by Steve. The sketches were mostly of Sam. Sam was openly crying now as he flipped through the notebook he’d seen but never looked at. He sunk onto Steve’s bed and cried. These tears were different; somehow they were tears of both joy and sadness. Sam was happy to find evidence of his relationship with Steve and he was happy to find evidence not only of a relationship, but of a relationship that clearly meant something to Steve as much as it did to him. Sam was almost smiling because what they had might be over, but what they had was also real.

When he flipped the page, about halfway through the notebook, his stomach dropped and his skin went cold. Gone was that feeling of warmth, and what replaced it was a cold, wet hurt. He felt as though he had been slapped. On the new page, was the only completed sketch Sam had come across, and it was not of him, it was a sketch of Bucky, sleepy eyed and shirtless in Steve’s bed. What was worse was the drawing came direct from a photograph that had been tucked neatly in that page. 

Sam carelessly dropped the book back on the table next to the photos of him and stood up. That’s when he heard the door click and someone come inside. He threw open Steve’s door with a careless force. 

“Jesus Christ,” Sam half shouted, “Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?”

Bucky was standing frozen in the doorway, his key still in the lock. “I wasn’t on patrol, I was on security, and that’s over now,” he said stiffly, his eyes cold and piercing. 

“Well isn’t that lovely,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Bucky didn’t move, “I didn’t ask for the assignment”.

“You’re just the best right,” Sam said, he knew he was being petty, but he was angry. 

“That’s not what I said. What the fuck is your problem?” Bucky said, slamming the front door behind him. 

“I don’t have a problem,” Sam lied, “I just don’t know why you’re here”.

Bucky’s eye’s flashed menacingly and Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up but he did not flinch.

“I didn’t realize I had to ask your permission,” Bucky said, his voice softer, more chocked up than Sam had been expecting. “I guess this is sorta your place too,” Bucky finished, dropping his gaze.  
Sam licked his lips in confusion, “What do you mean? How is this, ‘my place?’”

Bucky scoffed, “Quit acting dumb, it doesn’t suit you. Your stuff is all over the place, Steve’s clothes in your room, your clothes in Steve’s; the music; the books, it seems like half this stuff is yours”.

Sam stood stunned. He quickly scanned the room and realized that Bucky was right. Sam had always associated everything in here with Steve; so much so that he forgot who brought a lot of it in here in the first place.

He was about to say something when he remembered the notebook. “Who cares if I crashed here a few times, it doesn’t make it my place. So fucking stay here then, I don’t care. I’m going to bed. Don’t worry I’m going to the spare room” he said before storming into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. 

He did not sleep well that night. 

The next morning he woke to the smell of coffee. He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. He made sure to be wearing a shirt, and then wandered into the kitchen. Bucky was sitting at the island nursing a still steaming cup of coffee. He nodded slightly towards the coffee pot, but didn’t say a word. Sam poured himself a cup and wrapped both fingers around the mug, pulling it slowly towards his nose, inhaling deeply. 

He abruptly stopped when he remembered Bucky doing the same thing the previous morning. He simply took a sip and set the mug back down. 

Then he went about making a large breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and hash browns. He set a plate in front of Bucky and one at the other end of the island for himself. They ate in silence. When they finished, Bucky wordlessly washed the dishes and Sam got ready to head back to the Tower for the day. 

On his way out of the door Sam heard a muffled, “Thank you”.

“Sure thing,” He said, closing the door behind him. 

Over at the Tower, Sam and Scott were waiting around for Wanda, who would be patrolling with them that day so Hope could go to work. 

“I thought you were staying at the Tower last night?” Scott said. 

“I thought about it,” Sam said, he hesitated, “But I ended up staying at Steve’s”.

Scott shifted his weight uncomfortably, “I thought I heard Nat say Bucky was staying there,” he said, not making eye contact. 

Sam nodded, “He is, it wasn’t planned or anything”.

Scott grunted, “Huh, how’s that been?”

Sam winced remembering his outburst last night, “Fine I guess. You better than anyone knows how weird it is with me and him. We’re working on it I guess”.

Scott sighed, “Well maybe he’s the only one who knows what you’re going through, so it could be a good thing”.

Sam shot Scott a sharp look, “I don’t know, I’ve never really been able to talk to that guy”.

Scott just shrugged, “Hope used to downright despise me, now she’s honestly one of my best friends. Everyone needs someone to talk to”.

Sam didn’t say anything, but thought hard about what Scott had said for the rest of the day. 

At the end of his shift he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Bucky;

I’m heading back to Steve’s and was going to bring a pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom ok?

A couple minutes later Bucky replied;

Yeah. I’ll bring beer. 

Together that evening they ate pizza, drank a couple beers, and watched an old school action movie on TV. They sat mostly in silence, that was not entirely comfortable, but at least wasn’t openly hostile.   
The next morning Sam woke to the smell of coffee. He went to the kitchen to make breakfast and the two of them ate in silence and Bucky did the dishes. 

And thus cemented their morning routine. 

On Saturday, Sam woke up inspired. Neither he nor Bucky were on duty, so there was nowhere else for them to be. That morning Sam made eggs benedict. As he cooked, he took his first sip of coffee of the day.

“Whoa,” He said, “This coffee is awesome”.

Bucky smiled, “I tried a little something different today, glad it worked out”.

Sam smiled back and finished breakfast. 

When he served the plates Bucky’s eyes grew big, “This looks incredible”.

“Let’s hope it tastes that way too,” Sam joked. 

This morning, that chatted while they ate and drank their coffee. Bucky told Sam about how Tony accidentally set a stack of papers on fire and Bruce didn’t put it out but just walked out of the room. Sam told Bucky about how Wanda keeps finding ways to flick things at Clint’s head without him noticing that it’s her. 

After breakfast Bucky washed the dishes. When his hands were in the sink and his back was towards Sam he said, “I’ve got something to talk about with you, but I don’t want you to get mad”.

Sam held his breath a little bit, “I won’t get mad”.

Bucky took a deep breath, “I want to start sleeping in Steve’s room, not on the couch”.

Sam wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, he too had been thinking about how unfair it was that Bucky didn’t have a bed. On the other hand, he didn’t want Bucky to claim all of Steve’s things.

When Sam didn’t respond Bucky said, “And I’ve been thinking that before I do that, maybe we should start going through some of his stuff from there. I’m sure there’s gotta be stuff someone will want”.

Sam bit his lip. He actually thought that was probably a good idea. “Yeah,” He said, “We should do that. Did you want to do that today? Neither of us has stuff going on and there are some boxes in the closet”.

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky said as he finished the dishes. 

Sam led the way into Steve’s room. He flipped on the light switch as Bucky walked in. The room felt too small with both of them inside. It didn’t feel cozy, it felt stuffy. Sam looked at Bucky who was stoic, as always, but there was tightness in his jaw that wasn’t there before. 

Before either of them could touch anything, Sam’s phone rang. 

“Hello,” Sam answered, his voice rough. 

“Yo, Sam!” Scott said, “There’s a bit of a situation and I could use some help.”

Sam chuckled, “What did you do now?”

“Hey! This wasn’t my fault. Tony just left it out on the counter like it was nothing,” Scott said. 

Sam heard small explosions in the background, followed by a loud yelp from Scott. 

“Scott! Are you okay?” Sam asked, starting to panic. Scott had become one of his best friends, and Sam was not about to lose someone else. 

“Yeah, but the tower doesn’t look so good. Stark is going to kill me,” Scott said. 

Sam rubbed his hand over his head. His shirt riding up just above his hip bones. 

Bucky was looking at him, when Sam went to meet his eyes, Bucky looked away, his brow furled. 

Don’t worry, I’ll be right over,” Sam said before hanging up. 

“Scott is about to burn down Avengers Tower, can we do this some other time?” Sam said, brushing past Bucky on his way out of the room, his hand grazing over Bucky’s prosthetic arm. It was cool to the touch and Sam flinched ever so slightly. It was cool, but Sam felt something else, something beneath the chill, radiate through him. He chose to ignore it. 

Bucky scanned Steve’s room before shrugging and following Sam. 

They grabbed a few things quickly and left together. 

At the tower, things were not as bad as Sam had expected. Scott had set off a training dummy of Tony’s in the main part of the residential area of the Tower. It had then proceeded to cause mostly minor damage throughout the space. 

When Sam and Bucky walked in, Scott was holding onto a pot lid and a spatula while the small dummy flew around him shooting small lasers at him. 

“Oh thank god you’re-“ Scott started to say before he got distracted by the image of Bucky on Sam’s right side. 

“I got this,” Bucky said calmly. He threw Scott’s pot lid at the dummy and when the dummy dodged, Bucky grabbed it and flipped the off switch. 

Sam thought he moved like a dancer, and then shook that thought from his mind. 

“You’re my hero,” Scott said, panting as he dropped his spatula to the ground. He turned to the fridge and pulled out three beers.

“I thought you were Ant-man, an Avenger,” Sam joked, cracking open his beer. 

“I don’t have my suit!” Scott explained, laughing, “Where would you be without your wings?” He pointed to Sam, “And you? Where would you be-“

Scott cut himself short, his fingers still casually pointing in Bucky’s direction. 

“Where would I be without my metal arm and creepy Hydra super soldier serum?” Bucky asked completely monotone. 

Scott looked scared. Sam stood by, watching, waiting. 

“I’d probably be dead,” Bucky said, a smile creeping onto his face, “And if I was dead, who could possibly have saved you from that dummy? You’d still be here trying to fight Stark tech with kitchenware” Bucky cracked his own beer, laughing. 

The tension melted away and Scott and Sam laughed along. 

“To my hero,” Scott toasted. 

“Here, here!” Sam said, clinking bottles with Scott and Bucky.

Sam looked around the place, surveying the damage. 

“Stark is not going to be pleased,” he muttered. 

“We’ll get this place in shape,” Bucky said. 

“You guys are gonna help?” Scott asked. 

“We’re here anyway, we didn’t have anything else going on,” Sam said. 

Bucky looked at Sam questioningly. Sam tried to give him a look that said he just can’t handle Steve’s room right now. He didn’t know if Bucky really understood, but smiled when he nodded at him anyway. 

They spent the rest of the day being regular handymen. They repaired the holes in the walls, repainted where there were scuffs, and rebuilt the shelf that Scott had crashed into.   
By the end of it, they were pretty sweaty. 

“Wow, this place looks even better than before!” Scott exclaimed. 

“Before what?” Tony asked walking through the door. “Lang, what did you do to my Tower?”

Sam and Bucky took that as their cue to leave and they bolted before Tony could question their involvement in the destruction of Avengers Tower. 

They wandered through the streets, laughing at Scott’s predicament. They did not have a destination, they were just floating. 

Eventually they found their way back to Steve’s. They hesitated at the front door of the apartment. Sam opened the door, but allowed Bucky to enter first. 

The apartment still had that hollow, empty feeling Sam felt before, but there was something different. There was warmth around the edges of the hole in his chest this time. Sam did not understand it, but decided to push it from his mind. 

“Maybe we should tackle that room?” Sam said, gesturing to Steve’s room. 

Bucky nodded and followed Sam into the bedroom. 

“We don’t need to do it all, not yet,” Bucky said, his voice soft. 

“We do have to make some space for you,” Sam said, admitting the truth. 

“I don’t take up much room,” Bucky said as he started to strip the sheets off the bed. 

Sam was surprised when Bucky tossed him the top sheet. 

“Don’t be weird about it,” Bucky said, not looking at Sam, “But it still smells like him and I’m not ready to wash that away just yet and I figure you’re not either”. 

Sam collected the blanket, inhaling deeply as he did so. Bucky was right, Steve was all over these sheets. 

“Thank you,” Sam said as he slipped out of the room to deposit the sheet in his own room. 

When he got back, Bucky was putting all of the photographs into different boxes. Sam helped Bucky sort until there were no photos left on the shelves. 

Bucky gingerly grabbed the sketchbook from the night stand. Sam flinched at the sight of it. 

“You keep it, it doesn’t belong to me,” Sam said. 

Bucky carefully looked through it, his face full of confusion. 

“But they’re all of you,” he said. 

“Look at the last one, the one he cared about the most,” Sam said, tears welling up in his eyes. 

Bucky found the picture and the drawing that Sam was talking about. He looked at it for a moment. A single tear fell down his face. He tucked the book away in a drawer.   
“We can deal with that later,” Bucky said. 

Sam nodded. 

“Is there anything else you need or want from in here?” Bucky asked. 

Sam knew he was really asking for a blessing to sleep there, to take over Steve’s room. 

“There are just a couple things,” Sam said. 

He rummaged through drawers quickly and found the shirt Steve was wearing when they first met. The hoodie Sam remembered from cozy winter nights spent cuddled together, and finally, the shirt Steve wore the first time they ever kissed, which was the first night Sam ever stayed over, the first time they were together. 

Bucky nodded as Sam left with his things and left for his own room. 

Back in his room, Sam carefully folded Steve’s clothes and delicately placed them in an empty drawer. 

Sam them crawled into bed and wrapped himself in Steve’s sheets. 

He cried himself to sleep that night. He couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky was doing the same. He wondered if Bucky was sleeping in the bed, or on the floor. He wondered if he was comfortable.   
The next morning was formal, but nice. They didn’t discuss what happened the night before. They enjoyed their breakfast and coffee in peace. 

The next few weeks went on; they did their duties, and the shared breakfast every day. 

One day, after patrol, Sam and Bucky were at home sitting in the kitchen at the island, a place they had become quite comfortable. This was different. It had been a boring day. New York had never been safer apparently, and Sam was frustrated. Bucky was as stoic as ever. 

“Steve told me what Ultron said to him, about not being able to live without a war,” Sam said, elbows resting on the kitchen island, looking straight ahead through the kitchen window. 

Bucky was sitting on the other side of the island. At first glance he looked casual, but upon further examination, his muscles where taught and rigid; he wasn’t moving but seemingly frozen in place.  
“He told me the same, eventually. Once I came round again,” Bucky said. His voice was level, curt, yet clearly covering up some emotion. 

Sam blinked and furrowed his brow. “Obviously he did. Of course he did,” Sam thought to himself, “There’s probably nothing about Steve that I know that he doesn’t. There’s probably more that I don’t know”.

He cleared his throat, “Um, right man, cool”. He shifted in his chair, deliberately not looking at Bucky, “Lately I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Not Ultron, or that, but trying to live without a war. I mean after everything I’ve fought through. I’m standing here on the other side of all this and..." 

He paused, giving a quick glance over towards Bucky. He was startled to see that Bucky was staring right at him, his brooding eye focused; hanging on Sam’s every word. 

Sam looked away, “And I don’t know man, I feel like I’m always waiting for the next mission, especially when the missions aren’t coming, it’s just patrols. I don’t know what would’ve happened if Steve hadn’t lapped me and sent me to run his errands,” He chuckled at his reference to tracking down the Winter Soldier. 

Bucky shifted on his stool, he was looking at Sam possibly even harder than he had been before. Sam stared, transfixed back at him. They were locked there, frozen in a moment. 

Bucky dropped his eyes; he was looking at Sam’s coffee mug when he cleared his throat. He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know where I would be either if it hadn’t been for you”. 

Sam felt his jaw drop, his tact leaving him without a second thought. Before he could help himself, he started to laugh. For the first time since Steve died, Sam really let go. He nearly fell off his chair when he heard Bucky starting to laugh too. 

It took some time for them to calm down. When Sam started to get his breath back he realized that he and Bucky had at some point ended up sitting on the same side of the island. Their knees lightly brushing against each other, Sam’s one arm on the back of Bucky’s stool, the other arm resting on the countertop inches for brushing Bucky’s arm, Bucky leaning in towards Sam’s arm rested there; it all happened so fast. Sam took a gulp of air, trying to keep the hiccups down. 

He looked up, the pair of them still breathing rather heavily when their eyes met. Sam felt a strange twinge in his gut, a twinge that he might have thought meant something earlier in his life, but now, at this point, he simply ignored it. He broke eye contact, removed his hand from the back of the stool, and leaned away.

“Man, do you wanna go to a bar or something, have some drinks, play some darts?” He asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner, “We could invite Nat and Clint, I hear they’re in town for a bros weekend doing whatever it is master assassins do”.

Bucky’s neutral and mostly unreadable expression had returned to his face. The difference was small, but noticeable. His eyes had a slight sparkle when he said, “Maybe we could go dancing”.

Sam felt the wind knocked out of him the moment he entered the unusual bar, Stanley’s Place that Nat and Clint decided to spend their night out. He quickly realized that it was a drunken bear hug from Clint that had forcibly removed the air from his lungs.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Clint practically yelled.

“Really?” Sam joked, “I couldn’t tell”.

Nat was close behind Clint and snuck a quick one armed hug to Sam and Bucky both after Clint had thoroughly welcomed them. 

“We’ve got a darts game going on over there in the back, and we’re up next for pool,” She said, leading them away from the doors and into the bar. They moved through the dance floor with minimal interference and entered a run down but well-loved games room in the back. 

After Clint finished destroying Nat at darts, they split into two teams to play a round of pool. They played until each combination of team had gone a round- somehow Clint managed to lose every single game. 

“If you guys are just going to tease me, I’m going to go dance by myself,” Clint said knocking back the rest of his beer. 

“Be my guest,” Sam said.

“Don’t test him!” Nat cried out laughing, “He’s dumb enough to do it”.

Clint pretended to be grossly offended, flipped the table off, and ran onto the dance floor by himself; the other dancers giving his flailing limbs a wide berth. 

Nat, Bucky, and Sam all burst out into uproarious laughter at the sight. 

“I’m gonna go save him from himself,” Nat said, slipping off her stool and running out to join Clint.

Bucky and Sam stood up after her. “After you,” Bucky teased with a sly smile on his face.

Sam bowed, “I couldn’t possibly, after you. Age before beauty after all”.

Bucky swatted at Sam, who ducked quickly. Eventually both ended up on the dance floor with two master assassins doing an obnoxiously bad interpretive dance to Uptown Funk.

After an hour and a half of straight dancing, Nat and Clint showed no signs of stopping. Sam tapped on Bucky’s right arm, “I need a drink” he said gesturing towards the bar. 

“Me too,” Bucky said, turning and leading the way. 

The grabbed their drinks and plopped down at a table between the game room and the dance floor. They caught their breath and sipped their drinks as they watched their friends. 

“We were never really together you know,” Bucky said out of the blue with a slight flush in his cheeks. He was deliberately avoiding Sam’s gaze. 

Sam held his breath; he was afraid that if he so much as blinked, Bucky would freeze up, stop talking, and Sam would go on, living with only half-truths and speculation. 

Still looking anywhere but at Sam, Bucky continued; “The 40s weren’t exactly the best time for human rights you see. So Steve and me, we were close, but we never thought we could actually be anything. We fooled around, and goddamn did I love him, but we were never a thing. I spent most of my life wondering why I seemed to be the only one who could really see Steve. See past his size, past his illnesses; see who he was in his heart. We told ourselves that our foolin’ around was just practice for when we found the real thing; and I was dumb enough to fool myself with that for a while, then Peggy came ‘round”.  
Sam twitched at the mention of Peggy. Steve would rarely talk about Peggy. Sam never pushed it because he thought Steve would talk when he was ready. He thought he had to wait for Steve to be ready; he thought Steve would have time to be ready.

Just as Sam had assumed, Bucky went quiet when Sam twitched. But much to Sam’s surprise, he did not actually stay quiet for long. Bucky continued, “She was stunning, and I don’t just mean the way she looked. She walked into a room and it seemed as though the whole world stopped. Sure there was a fair share of guys who only stopped for a look and a crude joke, but the boys, us Howling Commandos, we knew better. And none of us knew better than Steve,” He voice trailed off.

Sam didn’t know if he should speak, move, or hell, if he should even breath. “I think this is the most Bucky has ever said about what happened before he fell of that train,” Sam thought to himself, “Well the most he’s said to me at least”.

Bucky appeared to have decided he was done talking. He had furrowed his brow and put his elbows on his knees. Sam could tell Bucky was done talking, but nowhere near done thinking on it.

They both drained their drinks at roughly the same time and rejoined Nat and Clint on the dance floor. When last call was announced, Nat insisted on a couple rounds of shots to cap off the night. 

When the bar finally closed, Sam and Bucky bid farewell to their friends who were staying in the Tower, and headed back to Steve’s apartment. Sam felt tipsy but not sloshed, though the last shots made his head feel a little funny. They walked in silence as Sam took deep breaths, drinking in the fresh cold night air, willing it to clear his brain. His plan mostly worked because by the time he turned up their street he was feeling almost normal if a little giddy.

“Clint and Nat are really terrible dancers,” Sam said, laughing. 

Bucky did an exaggerated imitation of the time Clint spun so hard he slipped and fell straight on his ass.

Both of them were laughing hard. “Good thing they have each other for partners, otherwise the damage might have been more severe,” Sam joked. 

“It’s all about having the right partner!” Bucky said. Then his smile grew forced and pained, “I always tried to find Steve a dance partner. I think I always hoped he’d realize I brought the girls so he and I could go dancing together without people talkin’” Bucky said, a slight sadness seeping into his eyes, “I don’t think he ever did though”.

“Steve had a weird perception of himself,” Sam said before he could stop himself. “He tried to compare himself to those girls you were always bringing around,” he continued because, well he’d started already so what was the point in stopping, “He figured out that there was no comparison, he just didn’t realize that they couldn’t compare to him not the other way ‘round”. 

Bucky actually smirked when he said, “You really knew him, didn’t you?”

Sam stopped dead in his tracks. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked with an accusatory tone. 

Bucky stopped too and faced Sam square, “Jesus, what’s your problem?”

“My problem is you’ve got this superiority complex that makes you think you’re the only one who knew Steve at all. You’ve always got to remind me of everything you had with Steve, like what I had with him wasn’t the same, wasn’t as good!” Sam said, the red hot anger unmistakable in his voice. 

He stormed off and threw open the door to the building and racing up the stairs two at a time, his ears smoking the whole way. He heard Bucky effortlessly keeping pace with him, but didn’t both holding the door open behind him as he pushed his way inside. 

“What fucking right do you have to throw that shit at me?” Bucky said as he threw his jacket to the floor in a huff. 

“What do you mean? I have every right to protect the memories of Steve and me from your self-righteous, entitled ass,” Sam snarked back. 

“I have never tried to take away anything from you; it’s you who has taken everything from me!” Bucky exclaimed, “Steve and I never got together in the end because of you!”

“Because of me?” Sam yelled back, “Steve and I never got together because of you!”

Bucky stared back with a look of confused disgust. “You’re an idiot, a complete idiot,” Bucky snarled, “Sometimes I wonder if you ever really knew Steve at all”.

If Bucky had slapped him, it would’ve hurt less than those words. Sam felt a rumble in his chest. Fighting the urge to actually hit Bucky, knowing he would lose, he simply flipped Bucky off, “Fuck you,” he said, heading for the door. He ripped it open, but from behind him Bucky slammed it shut with a hard push, aided by the extra strength in his bionic arm.

“That probably wasn’t fair,” Bucky said, his voice still heated, but underneath lurked a sense of genuineness. 

Sam didn’t respond, just stood, gripping the doorknob with his whole body shaking. 

“You knew Steve probably better than anyone,” Bucky said, the anger slipping out more noticeably from his voice now, “Maybe even better than me”.

Sam scoffed. 

“I’m serious. Steve opened up to you, Steve trusted you,” Bucky said, the anger in his voice replaced by a hint of sadness. “He was different with me. Back before everything got turned upside down back then he did everything he could to hide his illnesses from me; he tried to keep up with everyone else, tried to be like everyone else. He wasn’t always honest with me about that stuff,” Bucky said, real sadness in his voice. He made his way from the door and slumped onto the couch. Sam tracked him with his eyes, leaning his back against the door with crossed arms and a tense jaw. 

Bucky made direct eye contact with Sam as he continued speaking; “And then, when you and he brought me back, saved me, he was still wasn’t honest with me. It doesn’t matter if you’ll admit it or not, but Steve loved you, he was in love with you. Steve’s failure was his noble heart. He felt like he owed me, or he never really had a choice. We both died and came back at the same time, he felt like he had no choice but me”.  
Sam interrupted; “Don’t give me that, he never settled for you, you know damn well that he loved you”.

Bucky gave a pathetic smile; “I know he loved me, and I loved him, but he loved you too, and there aren’t exactly self-help books about dealing with the near impossible return of your long dead lover. You helped Steve be more than a man stuck out of time, all I did was remind him of what we both left behind. It was too hard for him to be with me, but because of me, he felt he couldn’t be with you”.

Sam’s mind was racing; he had no idea how to react. He found himself falling onto the other side of the couch from Bucky. He bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to sort through the things Bucky had said to him. He cleared his throat quietly.

“You know, from the second he found out you were alive, he focused on nothing but you,” he said, his voice monotone, like he was reporting the weather, “He was absolutely crushed when you didn’t recognize him on the bridge. I, nor anyone else, believed then that you could be saved, I even told him that maybe you were the kind to stop, not the kind to save,” Sam admitted, glancing quickly at Bucky as he said it, feeling guilt swell up inside him. He pushed through it to finish his point, “But not Steve. Steve never once lost faith that he could save you”. 

They sat in silence for a moment, not looking at each other. When Sam risked a glance across the couch Bucky caught his eye. Sam felt his jaw quiver and the tears form in his eyes when he saw the same in Bucky.  
“I guess there really was a lot from him to try and sort through,” Bucky said, his voice cracking.

Then Sam couldn’t take it anymore and his resolve broke. He let the tears fall down his cheeks, “He probably thought he had time to figure it all out,” he croaked. 

Sam wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but he found himself wrapped under Bucky’s right arm, crying into his chest. Bucky’s head was resting on his head as he too cried. Sam cried remembering at Steve’s funeral thinking that Steve had cursed him, and now he realized that Bucky was cursed too. Sam realized that he had been angry at Bucky for giving all his love to Steve Rogers because that was exactly what Sam had done. He had been cruel to Bucky because he was hurt that Steve couldn’t give Sam all his love in return because some of it belonged to Bucky. He felt horrific shame for pushing Bucky when he was the reason that Steve wasn’t able to give all his heart to him either. Sam never stopped to think that Steve would have to choose between Bucky and Sam because in a million years he never would have thought there was any competition. 

They stayed there on the couch together crying until there were no more tears to fall. Eventually, exhausted from the night out, from the yelling, and the crying, they fell asleep on the couch where they sat.

The next morning Sam woke up first. He slipped out from under Bucky’s arm as carefully as he could. Despite his best efforts, Bucky still opened his eyes.

“No, go back to sleep,” Sam said, gesturing for Bucky to stay on the couch, “I’m going to run, what do you want for breakfast when I get back?”

“Eggs,” Bucky said, his voice dopey, eyelids slipping shut again. He was snoring by the time Sam left for his workout. 

Sam ran and reflected back on the previous evening. He felt a confused sense of relief that he and Bucky finally got into the messy reality of their situation. As great as things had been, just the two of them co-squatting at Steve’s apartment, there was always the underlying tension born from the fact that they both were madly in love with the same man who had died before he had time to sort out his own complicated feelings. 

This caused Sam to feel a suddenly overwhelming sense of guilt, leading him to adjust his route to the cemetery instead of the park. Luckily when he got there it was almost entirely deserted. He wandered his way towards where Steve had been laid to rest, kneeling beside the headstone when he arrived. 

He took three deep breaths. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I haven’t been at all fair to you these past couple months. I was wrong, you haven’t cursed me, and I did that to myself. You just were trying to do what you thought was right, what was fair. Your heart was a big part of what made me fall in love with you; I shouldn’t hold it against you now that you’re gone. I’ll probably always love you, and I will have lived a good life simply because you loved me at all”. He wiped his eyes as he stood; “I miss you”, and he turned back and headed back to the apartment. 

Bucky was dressed and reading with puffy eyes when Sam got back. They exchanged warm smiles.

“Go ahead and shower, I’ll start the coffee,” Bucky said, setting down Steve’s copy of Catch 22. 

Sam was relieved to discover that instead of territorial anger at the sight of Bucky casually using Steve’s things, he only felt a warm sense of ease and belonging. 

He thanked Bucky and jumped in the shower.

Breakfast was a delicious, quiet affair. This time the quiet was without its usual edge, and instead was rather peaceful. The coffee was particularly good Sam thought.


End file.
